In a covert, secret fashion of his own he was taking careful stock of the brothers. When Stephen's letter had been put into his hands at Council Bluffs the previous fall, it had required an effort of memory on his part to determine who this Stephen Landray was, and just how they were related. Of the writer's circumstances he had known absolutely nothing, and of these the letter gave no hint; this was a point upon which he had felt certain misgivings, but the very appearance of the brothers was in itself reassuring. He noted, for nothing was lost on him, that the others of the party treated them with a marked respect, which he instantly attributed to superiority of fortune, that to him being the basis of all social differences. “Well, now;” he cried, with boisterous heartiness, “and to think I should have known the pair of you the minute I clapped eyes on you! Singular, ain't it?” “No,” said Stephen, surveying the fine muscular figure of the fur trader with frank approval. “No, it is not so singular after all; for we do look alike.” “Aye, with this off,” running his fingers through his bushy heard. “As like as three peas in a pod.” Their wagons, which were among the last loaded on the “Caledonia,” and consequently among the first to be put ashore, were soon drawn up the bank; and Dunlevy, with Bingham and Walsh busied themselves settling the camp. “Now,” said Basil, “What are your plans?” The Landrays had drawn apart from the others, and had thrown themselves down on the short turf which was already specked with flowers. They told him first of the return of Rogers, and of the formation of the company. “Yonder tall fellow?” nodding in the direction of the Californian. “Yes.” Basil grinned. “You must have had right smart faith,” he said. “I should judge you'd have thought twice before trusting yourself to him.” “We did.” said Stephen. “It was then I thought of you.” “Well, if he drops off, I reckon I can fill his shoes.” “God forbid that he should drop off!” cried Stephen quickly. “I want to see him successful. He's a tragic and pathetic figure, with his hope and patience.” Basil stared at him blankly, “Oh! I reckon he'll pull through,” he said at length. They were soon absorbed in the discussion of their plans. They kept nothing back from the fur trader, for was he not a Landray? They told him how much was invested in the enterprise, what had been spent in equipment, and what, remained in cash in hand, which they intended to invest when they should reach California, together with five thousand dollars of their own. His dark eyes sparkled, and the enthusiasm which worked up out of the sullen depths of his nature quite mastered him. He felt his heart warm toward these prosperous kinsmen of his. “Well, freeze on to your money,” then he laughed as he added, “I didn't know any of the Landrays could round up so much. I suppose you sold clean out to do it?”